The Burial Of Shelbys Flag
War Poetry By an Eyewitness to the Last Flying Confederate Battle Flag
Dec 20, 2006
When the undefeated Missouri "Iron Brigade" of General JO Shelby crossed out of its country into Mexico, it formed up for a final time. After a unit salute the Confederate battle flag of the Iron Brigade, the last flying Confederate flag in the country, was gently buried under the river current. Wrapped in its canvas case and weighted down with stones it was sunk in the deepest part of the river's center. Along with it Gen Shelby placed the large black ostrich plume he wore in his hat throughout the war. They have never been found.
Confederate Colonel Alonzo Slayback composed his famous poem relating to the event. It follows below
“The Burial of Shelby's Flag"
A July sun, in torrid clime, gleamed on exile band, who in suits of gray
Stood in mute array on the banks of the Rio Grande
They were dusty and faint with their long, drear ride, and they paused when they
came to the river side;
For its wavelets divide
With their glowing tide
Their own dear land of youth, hope, pride And comrades graves, who in vain had
died, from the stranger's home, in a land untried.
Above them waved the Confederate Flag, with its fatal cross of stars,
That had always been
In the battle's din
Like a pennon of potent Mars.
And there curved from the crest of their leader a plume
That the brave had followed in joy and gloom that was ever in sight
In the hottest fight
A flaunting dare for a soldier's tomb, for the marksman's aim and the cannons boom,
But it bore a charm from the band of doom.
Forth stepped that leader then and said to the faithful few around:
"This tattered rag
Is the only flag
That floats on Dixie ground;
And this plume that I tear from the hat I wear
Of all my spoils is my only share; and brave men! I swear
That no foe shall dare
To lay his hand on our standard there. It's folds were braided by fingers fair, "Tis
The emblem now of their deep despair.
Its cause is lost. And the men it led on many a glorious field in disputing tread
Of invaders dread, Have been forced at last to yield
But this banner and plume have not been to blame, No exulting eye shall behold
Their shame;
And-----these relics so dear
In the waters here,
Before we cross, shall burial claim;
And while you mountains may bear name
They shall stand as monuments of our fame.
Tears stood in eyes that looked on death in every awful form Without dismay;
But the scene that day was sublimer than mountain storm!
"Tis easy to touch the veteran's heart
With finger of nature, but not of art, While the noble of soul
Lose self control, When called on with flag, home and country to part, Base bosoms are ever to callous to start
With feelings that generous natures can smart.
They buried then that flag and plume in the
river's rushing tide, Ere that fallen few
Of the tried and true had been scattered far and wide.
And that group of Missouri's valiant throng, who had fought for the weak against the strong- Who had charged and bled where Shelby led- Were the last who held above the wave.
The glorious flag of the vanquished brave, No more to rise from its watery grave!”
